Working on sound design based on how emotions feel was one of the most creative and introspective projects I’ve taken on. Instead of thinking about sound as an effect or background detail, I had to think of it as a direct translation of human emotion. My goal was to make players feel something the moment a sound played—even before they understood why.

I started by mapping out a list of core emotions: joy, fear, tension, curiosity, calm, nostalgia, and frustration. Then I broke each emotion down into qualities—sharp or soft, fast or slow, warm or cold, bright or muted. This helped me figure out the textures and tones I needed. For example, “calm” felt round and low, almost like a gentle hum, while “tension” felt tight and metallic, full of dissonance and irregular rhythm.

Experimentation became the heart of the project. I layered soft bells, airy synths, and slow fading reverbs to express gentle emotions, while harsher ones required distorted samples, tight staccato patterns, or sudden drops in volume. It surprised me how a tiny shift—like increasing reverb by half a second or slightly detuning a note—could completely change the emotional response.

One of the biggest challenges was avoiding clichés. Fear doesn’t always need a deep rumble, and happiness isn’t just major chords. I pushed myself to explore unconventional sources: recordings of everyday objects, environmental sounds, even my own voice. Some of the best results came from manipulating these raw materials until they no longer sounded like their origin but still carried an emotional footprint.

Testing the sounds with classmates taught me a lot about perception. People didn’t always react the way I expected. A sound I designed to be “hopeful” was described as “lonely” by several listeners, which made me rethink how subjective emotion really is. Instead of forcing one interpretation, I adjusted the designs to capture more complexity—emotions rarely exist in simple, isolated forms.

As the project grew, I started pairing sounds with short scenes or UI interactions to see how they functioned contextually. That step made everything click. Suddenly the emotional cues supported the experience rather than standing alone. The user wasn’t just hearing a sound; they were responding to it.

By the end, the process taught me that sound design isn’t just technical—it’s deeply psychological. It requires empathy, imagination, and an understanding of how people process subtle details. Building a library of emotion-driven sounds helped me grow not only as a designer but also as a storyteller. Turning feelings into audio was challenging, but it was also one of the most meaningful creative experiences I’ve had as a student.
